After going to sleep in her hospital room at 4 AM, I awoke at 7 AM since things were getting busy in her room with getting her vitals, giving medications and so forth. Mom's mouth hurt very badly from the sores and thrush and I asked the nurse if the nystatin and viscous lidocaine was ordered. It wasn't. Strange, we had gone over with the pharmacist personally all her meds she needed. The nurse said she would call to get an order but I didn't want to wait. I knew Mom had the lidocaine and the nystatin in her purse so I got them out and gave them to her. I knew it would be fine, but I told her not to tell anyone as it was a no no. With her memory being foggy, I was worried she would rat me out.
I was trying to keep people updated on Mom and letting people know she was in the hospital. Sean, naturally, seemed especially worried as he was in California and obviously couldn't be there. I wanted to take a picture to send to him. I told her to smile and she half heartedly smiled. I said, "Smile for Sean," and I got this:
I forget how I knew, maybe because it was planned the morning before she was hospitalized but I knew the plan was to take out her port-a-cath since they thought it was likely the cause of the infection. I asked the nurse about this, she didn't know. I asked the hospitalist when he came in, he didn't know. I asked if she would get her radiation treatment that day, he didn't know. A case manager came in to introduce herself and explain her role to my Mom. She said the average length of stay for a diagnosis of sepsis was 4-6 days. Mom said, "Ok I'll stay five," as if it was her choice. She thought it was awfully big of her not to insist upon 4 days when she really wanted to go home right now.
Aunt Pat got there pretty soon and she thought it would be a good idea if I went back to the apartment and got some rest. I obliged and went home and took a nap waking up mid afternoon. Aunt Pat had texted me and said they were going to take Mom for surgery to remove the port and for me to come to the surgery waiting room. I got there and Aunt Pat was chatting up some other women who were also waiting on their loved ones in surgery. She makes friends anywhere. She then kept telling me that they had great hot chocolate in the waiting room. She had put some packets in her purse and she thought I should do the same. Gosh, I love that woman.
When surgery was over we went back to her room to wait. I saw a woman with dark hair and a man peeking into her room. I thought, "Who the heck are these people and are they just going to stare at us from the hall?" The woman introduced herself as Shelli and I was instantly happy to meet her. I don't think Mom had known her for too long maybe a year or two from Trinity Baptist but she had spoken of her so much recently and what a kind person she was. She and I instantly hit it off, it is impossible not to feel at ease around Shelli. My Mom has always had an affinity for "real" people and Shelli is definitely that.
A few days later I found this message on her phone. Apparently Mom texts God sometimes.
Saturday July 19, 2014
On Saturday I drove up to Muncie with Lydia mid afternoon. I figured she'd be busy with visitors that morning anyway. When I walked in with Lydia in the stroller, Mom snapped at me, "What are you doing here?" "Uh, to visit you?" I responded. "Don't they think I might have MRSA?" she said. "Yes." I responded. "Well do you really think you should be here with a baby?" she said. Hmm...valid point, but the infection was in her blood, so I wasn't worried. Plus, I work daily with people with MRSA and all sorts of other fun bacteria so if Lydia was going to get anything, it would be from me. I brushed off her harshness.
She started doing something that summer I affectionally called "rapid cycling." My Mom was always known to us to hold a grudge. If she was mad at you, things weren't going to pleasant for at least 24 hours...if you apologized. But that summer, she seemed to get over her anger more quickly. I assume she just forgot she was angry or what she was angry about. Maybe she realized it wasn't something worth being upset about.
Carly was there and brightened up the room with her ever cheerfulness and finds she had bought at the farmer's market that morning. She showed each item to my Mom and my Mom was very interested. She had bought me a black and red wrap skirt. She had to show me how to wear it and helped me try it on. Mom thought it was just gorgeous.
Mom seemed in quite a bit of pain. Carly and I asked if she had been getting her pain medicine. She didn't know. A nurse came in and we asked her. Was Mom getting her scheduled morphine? No. Was she getting her scheduled steroid? No. Had anyone consulted oncology so her treatment plan could be carried out? No. Sigh. It was different being on this side in medicine, being the family member. Those medications were vital to her. We had told them when they'd asked for her med list. Did it even matter we had given them her med list? Did anyone read it? I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I like to think I take very good care of my patients. I try to look at the whole picture. It's time consuming, it makes me slow and not a profitable employee. It was very disheartening for me to see how it was to be the family member and gave me new perspective for the family members of the patients I treat. I'm not blaming any one individual or profession, it's a systems problem that is focused on treating the maximum amount of patients in the minimum amount of time. People really do need someone to advocate for them in healthcare. It worries me for people who don't have someone to do that.
Aunt Pat, Carly, and I decided we would go out for dinner at the Pizza King near the hospital. I told Mom I would come back to help her before bed and wish her good night. We went to the restaurant and ordered a baked ham and barbeque pizza (my favorite) and a pitcher of beer. Aunt Pat and I needed a beer. :)
We discussed Mom's harshness when I walked in. I don't remember if it was Carly or I that asked, but we wondered why was Mom so mad? Why had she always been so mad? We looked to Aunt Pat for any answers, she had known her the longest. She didn't know. What had made her this way? Had something happened to her when she was young? She had never disclosed anything traumatic happening to her in her childhood or young adulthood. Aunt Pat told me she had been this way since they had met. I know she was like this in the time Dad first met her. I love my Mom dearly as I hope this blog reveals, but I will tell you I spent a lifetime walking on eggshells trying to keep her happy. I just wanted her to be happy. If she was happy, I was happy. If she was unhappy, I was unhappy. I don't know what troubled my Mom's heart so to make her hold the anger she had, but it makes me sad. One of the reasons I have not had too much trouble making peace with my Mom's death is I know that she is free of whatever troubled her. She has peace now she never had on Earth. She is free.
When I got back to the room, Mom was in great spirits. I helped her to the bathroom, straightened up her bed, and cleaned up her room, folding blankets, stacking pillows, throwing away trash, closing cabinets and drawers, arranging her bedside table. A clean room would make my Mom feel at ease.
As I was getting ready to leave I picked up the bag with the skirt in it. Mom asked, "What's that?" I said, "It's the skirt Carly bought me." She said, "Oh! Let me see!" Without saying a word, I took it out of the bag and tried it on again and she ooh'd and ahh'd over it just as she had done two hours prior.
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